


Fighting alongside you

by MisakillDatMonkey



Series: Saruhiko and Misaki were sitting in the tree... K I S S I N G [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: But still smut in the end, Flanffgst, M/M, Of healing wounds, Requested (kinda), slight smut i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:58:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisakillDatMonkey/pseuds/MisakillDatMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After episode 12 "Knuckle Bump", Nagare was defeated. During the battle, Saruhiko has to rest at the back of one of the Scepter 4 vans, still wounded. As soon as Misaki is free, he rushes to him again and there's, maybe, a second reconciliation to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting alongside you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisloveisradiant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisloveisradiant/gifts).



> "Also the place of Fushimi's injure. Hmm I could sense the birth of a j-just-treating-your-wound smut fic out there" Said Thisloveisradiant and shyly I proposed to make something. I don't know if it's good enough or if you had something like that in mind but I still offer this to you! I'm a bit scared because you're currently writing my most favorite fic ever so it's a challenge here... anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it! /flushed, runs away/ (And all of you guys).

_I don’t want your help_.

These were the words he had repeated tirelessly. Saruhiko really didn’t _want_ their help, in the end. _Need_ , that, he probably did. But he wouldn’t say it and didn’t wanted to either. Douhan had left the place immediately after her rescue mission. She wasn’t paid to stick around him or bandage his wounds.

Saruhiko had been left at the back of one of the Scepter 4 familiar vans. It felt cold, to lay on this metallic bench along the wall. A first aid kit was open on the steel table but it remained untouched. He surely wasn’t going to take his pants off at the back of a Scepter 4 van, near a battlefield, especially when the battle had just came to an end. He was in pain and his thigh was still bloody but he couldn’t care less.

As he found out soon, Saruhiko hadn’t risk his life for nothing. They were victorious. Nagare had been defeated, the Slates contained and Munakata was safe, thanks to the Silver King’s help. At any moment, Saruhiko’s well deserved peace would be broken.

He had eventually asked to be left alone as long as the other were fighting. He was sore, exhausted even, from his fight against Sukuna. That brat.

Saruhiko kept thinking about what would have happened if Misaki hadn’t showed up. He knew the answer too well. He’d be dead by now. But Misaki did showed up. He came after him and rescued him. The fight was playing itself in his head over and over, maintaining the adrenaline dose in his veins high. It was thrilling. Exciting. Arousing… To fight beside him again, to protect each other’s back. To be scared, to be surprised, to be victorious. _Together_. Saruhiko felt alive again. And if he was honest with himself, the tickling at the corners of his eyes when he had left the building, was clearly due to some tears of happiness showing shyly. He’d wipe them off even before they could fall.

They were together again. They were _one_ , moving in sync, throwing stupid punchlines at the enemy, and getting out of their fight victorious.

The only goddamn shadow in that beautiful painting was the waiting and the fear. Saruhiko had no idea of what was happening in Jungle GQ once he was out. He didn’t know if Misaki was fighting, if he was ok, if he was… Returning. That’s why he had spent the last moments fidgeting like a mad man at the edge of the cold hard bench.

Misaki had said they would talk again. Saruhiko knew he’d return to him. But only if nothing happened to him before that. Only if he didn’t… No! No way was that idiot going to die on the battlefield now.

“Come back, Misaki~, don’t keep me waiting here!”

 

 _BANG_!

“Oi! Lemme see him you stupid blue! Oi I said…”

Noisy. Loud and noisy. So much Misaki.

Something hit hard the surface of the van, and the voice of the red vanguard flooded into the vehicle immediately. A smile twisted Saruhiko’s lips as he closed his eyes. For some little precious seconds, he just listened to his old partner’s loud mouth. How grateful and hopeful and ecstatic even he had been when Misaki’s voice had reached him, shouting his name to find him. He had saved him.

Standing with some difficulty, Saruhiko managed to walk to the slightly ajar door. There, he pushed it enough, his hand resting on the frame. It looked like he was leaning casually against it when, in reality, he needed it badly to support his injured body screaming indignantly.

“Let him in or else he is stupid enough to destroy the van and it’ll mean extra paperwork,” he drawled, looking at his colleague with a smirk.

He caught Misaki’s glare, of course, but no angry answer came. Good…?

Eventually, the Scepter 4 member stepped aside and allowed Homra’s vanguard to pass. Saruhiko moved enough to make the room for him to get in and, before he closed the door behind them, he added: “It’s ok, now. You can leave it to me. It’s not like he was dangerous, or something.”

He was clearly having fun, here, and promptly shut the door, locking them up inside of the vehicle. Once it was done, he turned on his heels, leaning back against the surface, arms crossed over his chest, his playful smirk still on his lips. “So. What is it you want, Misaki?” He asked but his smile faded away quickly.

Now he could see him clearly, standing next to the table, it was obvious Misaki had fight harder once they had been separated. A nasty bruise covered his left temple, swallowing his left eye and cheekbone in a stain of bluish-green color. Crusted blood covered his knuckles and a shallow cut ran along his right forearm. Despite all that, though, he seemed to be well. He looked determined, concerned – not in pain. Hands fidgeting before him, fingers twisting in knots over and over, he looked at Saruhiko without anger.

“I wanted to see if you… If you were alright,” Misaki suddenly blurted out, immediately blushing.

“If I’m-“ Saruhiko started, in total disbelief then shook his head. “Speak for yourself! Did you even see your face?”

“Don’t need to,” Misaki growled, impatiently. “It’s nothing! But you…”

He stopped there, not knowing what to say. Saruhiko found it frustrating and, too exhausted to stand up longer, decided to return to the bench. This time, though, he couldn’t hide how he limped to Misaki. The cut in his thigh was deep and throbbing. He cringed.

Of course, all of this happened in merely two seconds. Misaki was on him the moment after, definitely worried now. He ducked to wrap Saruhiko’s arm around his shoulders and help him walk to the bench. There was a time when Saruhiko would have push him away. Now, it felt just right. Odd, but familiar and right. It felt like home.

“That shitty brat!” He heard the red head groaning as they sat next to each other – him not without some difficulty.

There, he stretched his legs before him, his face twisting in pain.

“Let me see it,” Misaki said, and Saruhiko locked his gaze on him.

The vanguard averted his own, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

“It’s ok,” Saruhiko drawled in defense. But it was not.

“Saruhiko. You need to get your wound treated,” Misaki urged without much patience. “I’m not letting you-“

“I told you it was ok!” Saruhiko cut him dryly. He wasn’t even sure why. It was scary, that for sure, but he couldn’t quite point why.

A hand suddenly jerked out of nowhere and caught his wrist in a strong grip. The swordsman looked at it, trying to hide his surprise. Then, he raised his gaze and met Misaki’s. It was burning. Burning red and fiery, like his Misaki.

“Oi Saru!” He called him, frowning. “I—I thought… Back there, I thought you’d die. I—I thought you were dead. That shit you pulled, it scared me to death. So you owe me that, yea?”

Saruhiko nodded mechanically, not even conscious he was doing so. He couldn’t. He was just flooded by a rush of heat, devouring his body, at his old friend’s words. It wasn’t like some sort of poetry and yet that little confession was a thousand times more beautiful than any love letter in the history. It was rough but honest. It was caring. It _was_ Misaki. Saruhiko was glad he didn’t need to hide the lump in his throat.

“All this time… We should have talk. And we never—we never did. And I thought you’d die on me there and then... I’d never get the chance to talk to you again, to let you explain, to understand…” Misaki was ranting again, but Saruhiko wasn’t paying attention exactly.

He had already heard this when he’d been rescued. So, instead, he focused on Misaki’s face. On the shades of red creeping on his cheeks as he fidgeted next to him. Until a pair of hands went to his fly. At that moment he froze and couldn’t help but widen his blue, piercing, eyes.

It must have been a big change in his attitude because Misaki removed his hands as fast as if he had burnt them. He was scarlet, now.

“Sorry. But you need to get rid of these,” he gestured awkwardly at the pair of jeans. “Just do it if…”

“No,” Saruhiko interrupted him.

And he was glad the lump in his throat wasn’t there anymore but his heart was now hammering against his ribcage. “Do it,” he said; almost a mutter. “Please.”

The tone and the simple plea were strange enough for Misaki to comply. Silently and still flushed, he brought his hands to Saruhiko’s fly again and started to work on it. It took some seconds, then the vanguard was standing in front of him and his amber eyes were shyly and silently asking for permission – hands on Saruhiko’s hips.

Again, the raven haired boy nodded and Misaki, swallowing loudly enough for Saruhiko to hear, pulled the pants down, revealing black boxers and porcelain skin.

Saruhiko watched it quietly, hypnotized as Misaki crouched between his legs to get rid of his shoes and definitely his pair of jeans. Then he moved to be at Saru’s side and take a better look at the wound. Needless to say it was nasty. The porcelain skin was now stained with an enormous bruise. Black, but mostly purple were fighting around a short but deep cut, rimmed by dried blood.

“Tsk. Disgusting!” He heard himself say at the sight.

“It’s ok,” Misaki answered, focused on the injury.

His fingertips brushed over Saruhiko’s thigh and he had to suppress a shiver.

“Sorry!” The red head gasped, misinterpreting it. “Ok, I need some…”

He got up and reached the table quickly, rummaging through the kit while muttering things Saruhiko couldn’t hear. Instead, he looked at his former friend’s back. _That shit you pulled, it scared me to death_. The swordsman couldn’t help but chuckle, catching Misaki’s attention back. He turned to face him again, hands full of items to heal him properly, with a frown.

“Oi, what’s so amusing?” He mumbled.

“Nothing, Misaki. Nothing,” Saruhiko answered, smiling now. He was so tired and, thus, he couldn’t give two shit about the fond look he was laying on Misaki right now. It’s not like he could hide it, anyway. Not when _Nothing, Misaki_ was blushing again.

The vanguard made his way to Saru’s side again and crouched next to him, ready to proceed.

“It’ll probably be a little painful when I clean it, but I don’t think you’ll need stitches at least,” Misaki warned.

Saruhiko wanted to tell him it was ok. _Bring it on, Misaki_ ~. It’s not like the past couple of years had hurt him enough for a lifetime. What was some stupid cut when you were stripped of what mattered the most. When you were kept away from the person you loved the most in your life? He wouldn’t feel pain now, as Misaki rubbed a gauze soaked with alcohol around the tortured flesh, when he was _one_ again.

Of course, he set his jaw, but he let him take care of him. Like they did back in those times, a hundred times.

“Yours will match mine, now,” the vanguard said, at some point, lightly.

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow but understood quickly what Misaki was referring to. His shoulder, of course. He felt stupid, but Misaki had a sideway grin, and eventually the feeling faded.

“Lift your thigh, please,” Misaki asked later and Saruhiko realized he was done with cleaning the wound.

It wasn’t so bad now, although it still hurt a lot. But the red head care and gentleness were making it easier. He did as he was told, allowing his healer to tie a white bandage around his thigh carefully.

“It’s not too tight?” He asked and left his spot to sit next to Saruhiko again.

“It’s good,” Saruhiko only answered, closing his eyes.

They were both aware that Misaki’s hand still rested on his skin, above his knee.

“Saruhiko,” Misaki breathed out, after a moment, and his voice was hoarse.

The raven haired one opened his eyes to look directly at him. The hand on his skin trembled. _What is it you want to say?_ Were asking Saruhiko eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you ever again. No matter the color you fight for. I need you back,” the vanguard stated, determined and clear.

The lump in Saruhiko’s throat found its way back. He blindly caught Misaki’s hand, intertwining their fingers against his fair skin. His blue eyes couldn’t leave the amber ones.

“I fight in blue but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight alongside you.” It was a simple statement and had nothing to do with a cheesy confession.

Actually, Saruhiko wasn’t exactly talking to Misaki. It was more like that fact had just struck him after worming his way to him during the events of the day. They came to a silent agreement: they belonged to different clans but they did belonged to each other in the end. They always did. It was an open secret and the reason why their torments had been so great these past years. If they couldn’t get along, then the world had to burn down to ashes.

“Took you long enough. Monkey,” Misaki tried to joke, his cheeky attitude back in place but tentatively.

There was more. Something subtle enough, something secret. Something that needed to be shared. So Saruhiko leant toward him, for secrets could only be shared with some intimacy. The hand clenched on his, giving to his slender fingers a reassuring pressure.

But Misaki had no idea how long it actually took. How long Saruhiko had waited for that moment. Maybe he had no idea either about what he’d exactly do and that was the reason why he didn’t move when their breaths mingled.

Then, naturally, Saruhiko’s lips grazed Misaki’s. A tentative, deliberately slow and tender gesture. That alone was more painful than anything he had experienced the last hours. To be that cautious and reserved when he had longed for this for years. It was torture and his body lit up on fire.

Fortunately, and it had to be the best day of his life – all considered – Misaki leant in his turn, meeting the pair of hungry lips brushing against his mouth. It was his best decision or worst mistake, because he’d be forever chained now. Because it would be impossible for one or the other to live without his other half. But he still did it and their mouths collided. Their lips sealed each other and the featherlike brush turned into a deep kiss.

Saruhiko knew his hand had knotted itself at the back of the red head at some point, pushing the beanie away. His other one was still prisoner of Misaki’s. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered really, because he was kissing Misaki. Their mouths moved together, in perfect sync, and soon, their tongues engaged in another battle. This one, it didn’t matter who won it – as long as it lasted for ever.

Misaki’s hot breath burnt him alive. The biting, the licking, the kissing, all this was burning him, consuming him in a blissful moment.

Surprisingly, it was Misaki who took the next step. Him who coaxed him into laying back against the cold bench. Him who got rid away of his sweat-shirt to slide it under Saruhiko’s head so he wouldn’t be hurt. And, that way, they were almost even. Each of them half naked.

Misaki found his place between Saruhiko’s legs, the only way where his thigh didn’t hurt him too much. This way, the stinging wasn’t constant and Saruhiko could almost forget it when the kiss deepened again, Misaki’s tongue thrusting in his mouth enough to drive him crazy.

The first pair of hips to rock was Misaki’s too. When Saruhiko hooked his good leg around his waist and tugged on the red hair. Their groins collided and Misaki let out a delicious moan. Saruhiko was sure he was ashamed of it the moment it left his throat but he personally thought he could feed on these noises his whole life.

“ _Misaki_ ,” he growled, low and full of want.

His hands abandoned the red head’s nape and hair to slide between them and teased immediately the fly of his shorts. Misaki grunted and Saruhiko took his cue to unfasten them and push back the offensive material. Homra’s vanguard kicked the pants down and on the floor, immediately returning to his previous action.

This time, when their hips met, they both moaned louder, for both their strained arousals were now only covered with the thin fabric of their boxers. And both were almost painfully hard. Saruhiko wriggled enough and pushed his briefs enough for his length to get out of the confinement almost all the way. After that, and still kissing deeply the vanguard, hE tugged on Misaki’s boxers as well, revealing his two cheeks. The other helped to push it so that his own member was free and Saruhiko’s hands grabbed Misaki’s rear to bring him down.

This time, it was a cry, broken for Saru, desperate for Misaki, as their arousals slide against each other.

“Saruhiko,” Misaki moaned, one of his hand messing with the raven hair.

“Mmh,” only answered the boy who was losing his mind under him.

He brought a hand between them again and took them both at the same time, eliciting throaty noises on both sides. They started to rock their hips messily after that, alternating rough thrusts and shallow rocking motions, their two members caught into Saruhiko’s hand only, sliding against each other.

It wasn’t long before they both released themselves. Misaki was only first by seconds, Saruhiko louder, his lover’s name on the lips. Both were hit hard and to the core by the pleasure. They rode their orgasms together, thrusting their hips to get as much contact as they could, until Saruhiko removed his hand. It was simply too good.

Too beautiful. Too strong. It was unbreakable, this bond.

“Is my debt paid?” Saruhiko dared to ask, drawling like usual but the panting was ruining the effect of it.

“Hell no! We’ll have to fight a couple of other times, I guess,” Misaki – visibly spent and sated and forgetting to blush – answered with half a smirk.

“Only a couple?” Saru mused, his hands resting on the small of Misaki’s back.

“Shut up, Monkey!”

Saruhiko made a “Tsk”, but it was drawn in a chuckle. To prevent any other attempt, Misaki kissed him silent immediately.


End file.
